


Transmigration of the Soul

by Writing Cat and Dog (CrowleyGirl)



Category: hobbit - Fandom
Genre: M/M, Reincarnation, sorta incest but not really
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-01
Updated: 2017-01-21
Packaged: 2018-09-03 11:27:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8710810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrowleyGirl/pseuds/Writing%20Cat%20and%20Dog
Summary: He was old and grey when he last closed his eyes-now there was color everywhere and he couldn't help but cry against the light.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Written from a prompt from glubyoutodarn on tumblr. I could hardly do this prompt justice, but I tried my best :) Please Review.

Streams of red, pink, and orange bloomed across the evening sky as the sun sank towards the horizon, the cool spring day quietly coming to an end like the many days before it. The lands were peaceful now, no longer under the threat of Mordor or Isenguard. The people of Middle Earth were safe from harm and could go where they wished. Purged of Orcs and Uruk-Hai, the roads were now safe to travel, many carriages bearing elves to the last ships sailing to Valinor. One such carriage carried the Hobbit who had saved Middle Earth along with his aging uncle, Bilbo Baggins. The two hobbits were making their final journey at the request of Lady Galadriel and Lord Elrond when Bilbo had fallen ill. Once Frodo had received the word that Bilbo was sick, he had immediately come for his uncle, worried that he might be too late, that maybe he had waited too long. When he reached Rivendell, Bilbo was frail, but ready to travel. He had enough power left in him to spend the journey rambling of his old adventures. Of Thorin Oakenshield, Smaug, and the Lonely Mountain. Frodo loved those stories, though it pained him to see the elderly Hobbit retell them through hacking coughs. At the astonishing age of 131, Bilbo still had quite the memory, his stories as clear as they had been when Frodo was a young Hobbit. When Bilbo ran out of stories to tell, Frodo picked up, recounting the War of the Ring and his adventures in Mordor.

"You know I loved him," Bilbo said when there was lull in their retellings, "That grumpy dwarf King had my whole heart."

Frodo nodded, tucking a blanket around his shivering uncle. "You've told me before, I only wish you two could have had more time together. Goodness knows, you deserved it."

They continued on in companionable silence, the rattling of the carriage wheels the only sound among the quiet beaches and tree lines.

They were two thirds of the way there when Bilbo passed on. The silence broken when he looked at Frodo and said softly, "Frodo, my boy, I don't believe I'm going to be with you on this last adventure." Then he took a wheezy breath and closed his eyes, never to open them in that body again.

TotSTotSTotS

He'd been old and grey when he'd last closed his eyes-and now the colors were bright and he couldn't help but wail against the light. Everything was too loud and overstimulating. He saw flashes of faces above him, but his eyes weren't working right and his vision seemed blurred. A soft cloth was wrapped around his new tiny body, swaddling him in warmth. Arms cradled him and a distant voice whispered to him, but the words jumbled in his mind. Half of him seemed to understand the mother's words of comfort, but the other half only heard jumbled gibberish. He was confused, he seemed to be split into two, but the two halves blurred more and more until one rose above. Soon, the only memory of Bilbo Baggins in him was that last moment in the carriage, but even that fragment was fading. The strongest part of him, a new-born dwarfing, stopped wailing as his mother began to rock, calming the world around him. The creaking of a door started him crying again, the harsh sound grating his ears. A small dwarfling tiptoed into the room, catching the mothers attention.

"Thorin, come see your baby brother."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is so short, it sort of a second prologue. I promise the chapters will get long, especially the next one. Please review!

She's full of light. A soft, silver light that shimmers all around her and shines through the forest she always appears in. The backdrop of trees are pale and dull next to her.

Her white dress is made of some silky material that catches the light beautifully. Golden bracelets are daintily clasped around her wrists. Frerin can never quite catch her facial features, they seem beyond him, but he remembers her hair. Her glorious red hair that tumbles down her back nearly to her feet and sways gently in the lingering wind. She's tall, taller than any human he's ever seen. He dreams, no, envisions her constantly, and it's always the same.

The stars are all at their brightest, but they are still not as bright as the full moon hanging directly over the lady's head. He thinks she's must be a goddess, but not one he's ever heard of before. Not even the dwarvish ones could compare to her.

He never feels right standing in her presence, so he drops to his knees in worship. She smiles, laughs a little, then beckons him to rise. Her voice, melodic and lilting, calls him to her and he goes willingly every time.

"Frerin," she whispers in his ear, "He is a part of you, let him speak. I gave you your second chance."

And then he wakes up, wondering.


	3. Chapter 3

Frerin's two years old when he first speaks. It's not a word, more babbling than anything, but the family still celebrates and Frerin stands around repeating, "Frodo!" with a joyous grin. He bathes in the attention, not quite knowing where he got the collection of letters. His parents wonder too, but Frerin toddles around quite a bit and he could have heard it anywhere.  
He's a tiny lad, much smaller than Thorin was at that age, and Thrain is concerned. He doesn't seem to grow as fast as the other dwarflings and his curly blond hair sprouts quicker than he does.   
.........................  
T.A. 2770  
They're standing on the balcony overlooking Dale when the vision hits him hard enough to make him collapse. Frerin should be used to them by now, little bits and pieces of the future stampeding through his mind like a pack of wild horses, but this one feels different, somehow. Off.  
He stands atop the edge of a cliff looking outwards. Before him is a glorious view - The dark sprawl of Mirkwood with Erebor rising resplendent in the distance. Thorin stands in front of him smiling warmly. He looks regal, draped in kingly furs, but he has a cut across his face and leaves hang from his tangled hair. Something stirs inside of Frerin at the sight, a warmth spreading all the way to his toes.  
His body... It's different, smaller He wears no armor and has no shoes. But he has no time to ponder on the change as Thorin steps forward and wraps his strong arms around Frerin in a great hug. Frerin can't help but look deeply into his brother's kind, dark eyes and smile. The warm feeling rises to his chest and explodes when Thorin unexpectedly leans down and graces his lips with a tender kiss.  
"Bilbo."  
.................  
Frerin wakes, blushing, to the worried faces of his brother and sister.   
"'Rin, yaw'right?" Dis asks, steadying him as he tries to stand.  
"Was it another vision?" Thorin inquires briskly, "Did you see something again?"  
Frerin shakes his head, swaying dizzily, "No, I- uh. I don't feel so good. I think I need to lay down." He can't get the feeling of Thorin's lips on his out of his mind, and it's freaking him out. He shouldn't be thinking about his brother like that. At all.  
Dis leads him down to his rooms and lays him softy on his fur-covered bed.  
"There ya go." She hums, "Yah get some rest now, then ya can tell us what that was all about."  
Frerin nods sleepily and driftts away from the world.


End file.
